


Even Phantoms Need Blankets

by ThePhantomsRose



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Erik is a Sweetheart, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Romance, Smitten Erik, Songfic, super fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePhantomsRose/pseuds/ThePhantomsRose
Summary: Erik has lived in the cold his whole life, so Christine decides to bring some warmth into it, in the form of a blanket and loveSongfic loosely based on the song "Even Robots Need Blankets" by Mayday Parade
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Even Phantoms Need Blankets

The icy Parisian wind nipped mercilessly at Christine’s exposed nose as she trudged through the snow-laden streets carrying several bags of goods from her shopping trip earlier. Although she had dressed appropriately for the cold with a brown trenchcoat lined with fur, a pair of thick gloves, boots, and a pale cream knitted cap, the winter air somehow crept its way into her bones.

She let out a sigh of relief, her breath coming out in a puff of white when she saw the warm glow of the streetlights in front of the Opera House. Christine’s coffee-colored curls bounced against her shivering shoulders as she quickened her pace, boots crunching the snow under her feet. 

When she got to the top of the marble steps, she practically flung the heavy doors open and released a satisfied breath as the warm air kissed her face. Eager to be freed from the burden of her heavy shopping bags, Christine made haste towards her dressing room.

Her hands were full, so she had to momentarily shift all the bags to one hand while the other twisted the doorknob. Once she was inside with the door closed and locked behind her, Christine dropped the bags to the floor and rubbed her sore arms. She slipped her trenchcoat off and flung it on top of one of the chairs, followed by her hat and gloves.

Christine glanced at herself in the mirror, running her fingers through her bouncy curls and smoothening her clothes until she was satisfied with her appearance. She grinned with youthful giddiness as she slid the mirror open, excited to see her Angel of Music once again.

She had been making regular visits down below the Opera House to see her friend, Erik, for the past couple of months now. To most, he was known as The Phantom of the Opera, a ghostly presence who haunted the Opera House, but Christine knew him for who he really was - Erik, a genius musician, artist, and her trusted friend. As of late, however, she found herself developing feelings for him.

She did not doubt that Erik loved her; however, a small part of her held her back from confessing her feelings towards him. Tonight, perhaps, would be the night to tell him.

As she stepped inside the mirror, a chilly breeze hit her skin, causing goosebumps. “Goodness, it’s freezing down here,” she muttered under her breath. She retreated into her dressing room to put her coat back on, but before she ventured back down, the knitted blanket sitting on the sofa caught her eye. On top of her coat, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and braved her way down the winding stone staircase.

The cold darkness faded away the closer she got to his lair, and she began to see the orange glow of candlelight. The hauntingly beautiful notes of a pipe organ graced her ears, and she shut her eyes, letting the music caress her as she continued down the pathway that she knew by heart.

When she turned the final corner, she stared fondly at Erik’s tall figure hunched over his pipe organ. Christine loved watching him play, his long fingers dancing across the keys with the grace of a ballet dancer. Although the organ’s loud sounds surrounded him, he somehow managed to hear Christine’s light footsteps.

Erik turned on the bench, his hands still pressed to the keys holding out a sustained note, and softly smiled at Christine’s presence. 

“Hello, _mon ange_ ,” his euphonious voice always managed to make her heart flutter. 

“Hi Erik,” Christine greeted, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she tried to suppress a shiver. 

Her shiver did not go unnoticed by Erik, much to Christine’s embarrassment. He couldn’t help that it was cold in his home, and Christine didn’t want him to think that she found his lair unpleasant, for quite the opposite was true; Christine adored Erik’s home, often calling it “the land of music.”

“Christine, my dear, you’re freezing!” Erik sprung up faster than one would expect from a man of his towering height and lanky build. Before Christine could utter a word, Erik had scooped her up, hooking one arm underneath her knees and the other behind her back. Christine let out a small squeak of surprise as he lifted her into the air. She couldn’t help but blush madly as he pulled her so close to his chest that she could hear his rapid heartbeat.

Erik set her down on the plush velvet sofa adorned with intricately-decorated pillows beside an ornate fireplace. Christine wrapped herself tighter in her blanket and watched as Erik placed several wooden logs in the fireplace, along with some kindling. He struck a match and flung it onto the kindling, creating a bright orange flame that began to consume the wood. 

“Forgive me, Christine,” Erik apologized, running his fingers through his raven-black hair. “Truly, I wasn’t expecting a visit from you this evening. Otherwise, I would have lit the fireplace beforehand."

Christine sat up, and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry for intruding! Go back to writing your music, I’ll see myself out.”

As soon as she started to stand up, Erik gently took hold of her hand, enveloping her frigid fingers with his warm palms. “My dear, you are never intruding on me.” His eyes sparkled with adoration, yet a chilly sadness resided deep within.

Christine looked down at his hands, thumbs gently rubbing circles on her wrist. The sweet and gentle gesture made her blush, and she gratefully sat back down, feeling a pang of disappointment as Erik slowly released her hand from his warmth.

“Let me make you some tea,” Erik offered. Christine watched him step over to the small kitchen he had, made up of appliances he must have found over the years. It consisted of a wood stove, a refrigerator, a sink, and a couple of cabinets for storage. 

The wooden cabinet door’s hinges creaked as Erik opened it, pulling out a tin of tea leaves. Christine turned her attention away from him and stared into the crackling fire, relishing the smell of smoky wood. It reminded her fondly of her childhood when her father would tell stories and play the violin around the village’s campfire. Christine shut her eyes and let the precious memories flood her mind.

“Christine?” A whisper prompted her to open her eyes, breaking her from her thoughts; Erik’s masked face met her as he bent down to be eye-level with her. He held a saucer with a couple of lumps of sugar and a teacup billowing with steam in his hand. 

Christine sat upright and held the saucer in both of her hands carefully. “Thank you, Erik,” she brought the teacup to her lips.

“Be careful,” Erik warned. “It’s very hot, and I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

Christine acknowledged his warning by blowing gently on the cup of tea to cool it down before taking a sip. The tea was warm as it went down her throat, driving the cold out of her body. As she drank her tea peacefully, Erik returned to his organ to compose and Christine smiled softly while listening to him sing and play.

The combination of the soothing fire, the hot tea, Erik’s melodies, and her cozy blanket was enough to lull Christine to sleep. She suddenly felt herself being lifted from the sofa with care, different from the playful yet kind way she had been carried earlier. Half asleep, Christine breathed in Erik’s comforting scent - candles, wood, and roses. Erik’s warmth pulled away from her as he laid her down on his plush bed, tucking her in cozily. She could feel his shallow breath briefly on her forehead before feeling his soft lips press a lingering kiss to the spot. 

“I love you, Christine,” Erik’s whisper was so quiet; it would have been carried away by the wind if it could reach down into his lair. Christine heard his boots clacking on the stone floor as he walked away from her.

“I love you too, Erik,” she replied, just as faint. Erik’s footsteps paused briefly as if he were contemplating whether or not he had heard her correctly or if he had just imagined her murmur. Nevertheless, he continued walking away, his steps slowly fading to silence as Christine finally succumbed to sleep.

~

When Christine awoke, it was surprisingly silent; usually, when she fell asleep in Erik’s lair, he was passionately working away on the organ. However, when she sat upright in the bed, her Angel of Music was nowhere to be seen. Her bare feet hit the cold floor as she slid off the bed in search of Erik.

As she walked by the sofa, she saw Erik curled up on the piece of furniture, much too small for a man of his height. Christine would have chuckled in amusement at the sight, but his shivering frame caught her attention. _He must be freezing._ She thought with a pang of sadness. The curls of smoke coming from the charred logs in the fireplace told her that the fire must have gone out a long time ago. She hurried over and tossed a couple of logs into the fireplace along with more kindling and a lit match. 

After restarting the fire, Christine noticed that her knitted blanket was folded up neatly on the table beside the couch. She stared at it with confusion, wondering why Erik hadn’t used it. Reaching over to grab the blanket, she unfolded it and delicately draped it over Erik’s shaking body. She rubbed his shoulder soothingly, and he stopped shivering, snuggling into the blanket.

“Love, get me out of the cold,” Erik mumbled in his sleep. 

Although Erik was no longer physically cold, it seemed his heart still felt an icy chill. Christine bent down beside him, looking at him with pity. What kind of life had he known, living down here by himself for all these years? 

Christine scooted on the sofa and laid down, facing Erik. She pulled the blanket around them both and wrapped him in a tight hug. Erik flinched for a moment, and he gasped in surprise. His arms trembled as he held them in the air, ghosting them over Christine.

“C-Christine?” Erik stuttered in disbelief, eventually resting his arms around Christine’s small form.

“You don’t have to live in the cold anymore, Erik,” Christine murmured into his coat. 

Erik sighed contently and kissed the top of Christine’s head while pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. “Thank goodness,” he whispered into her hair. 

“You can keep the blanket,” Christine lifted her head from his chest to look at him.

“But, my dear, it’s yours,” Erik protested.

“It’s a gift.”

“Are you sure?”

Christine nodded reassuringly. “It’s all yours. You don't have any throw blankets down here. After all, phantoms need blankets, too.”

Erik chuckled and gazed into the crackling fire. “Thank you, _mon ange_.”

Christine responded wordlessly by resting her hand on his unmasked cheek. Erik brought his hand up to rest on top of hers. 

“Oh, by the way, Erik,” Christine began. “You heard me correctly earlier.”

Erik’s eyebrow raised in confusion for a brief minute, but then understanding shone in his eyes, and he smiled. “Oh, Christine, with you, I am closer to heaven than you’ll ever know.”

Christine and Erik stayed bundled up in the blanket and each other’s arms, watching the fire flicker and their faces light up as they shared lighthearted discussion and occasional kisses on the cheek and forehead. Christine had brought Erik out from the cold, and he would never be cold again, for her love would keep him warm until his dying day.


End file.
